Eliminated
by DuckiePray
Summary: A night of Halloween fun turns serious when brothers go missing in the darkness. "One freak has been eliminated...Who's next?"
1. Attraction

***Surprise! I've had this plot bunny rolling around for a little over 24 hours, and I couldn't resist posting. If you're familiar with my usual stories, this little "fic-let" falls outside of my normal canon. It's closely associated with my other stand-alone fic, "The World I Know". The boys are only in their young teens, so keep that in mind when you consider their level of maturity. Thanks for reading and reviewing! I do not own the TMNT.**

**PS. You're going to hate me.**

* * *

Michelangelo _tried_ to stifle the chuckle that kept erupting in the back of his throat, but the effort wasn't enough to avoid Raphael's glare.

"I'm not gonna tell you again, shell-head," the red-masked turtle said threateningly. "You'd better shut it or _else_."

The fourteen-year-old orange-masked turtle cocked his head. "That's the third 'or else' you've given me today, Raph. Can you paint me a better picture?"

His older brother's hand clipped the back of his head fiercely. The motion was even more jarring than normal because Mike didn't see it coming in the darkness of the passageway.

"Is that clear enough for you?"

Mike recovered quickly. "You'd better watch it, Raphy. I can get you kicked out of here."

"That'll be the day, numb-skull. Your big mouth will get you tossed way before that happens."

"I guess we'll have to let Leo and Donny decide this one," Mike said dismissively.

Raphael grunted in irritation. "Shell, we've gotta be way behind them."

Mike laughed. "Don't worry about it, Bro. _Anyone_ could get way-laid by a fifty-pound spider."

Raphael's hand found his head even harder so that Mike barely kept his balance.

"_Ow,_ Raph," he complained, surprised by how much the blow hurt. Raph's "love-taps" usually stung, but didn't leave serious damage. The last strike left his head throbbing, and he suddenly didn't feel like laughing anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay? Can you just shut up about the spider so we can get moving?"

Mike folded his arms with a huff. "Whatever, Raph."

He remained silent as his older brother began walking again, the red-masked turtle traveling with more caution than he'd entered the haunted house with. Michelangelo had been looking forward to Halloween night for weeks as one of the only times—_if not _the_ only time_, he mentally corrected, that he and his brothers could openly roam the streets without fear.

Visiting the attraction that night had been his idea, though he _hadn't_ chosen to split up with his other brothers. At the last minute, Donatello had meekly requested to go through the milder side of the scare-house. _Donny never did like this holiday too much. There's probably a good reason for that. _Being the awesome oldest brother that he was (and knowing how much Michelangelo wanted the full thrill), Leonardo had volunteered to go through with the purple-masked turtle.

Mike had enjoyed himself so far, but his favorite moment had to have been Raphael's freak-out over a spider that was entirely too large and grotesque to be real. At least he _had _been enjoying himself.

Raphael cast a glance over his shoulder. "You getting bored with this already?"

"Bored? We've only been in here a few minutes," he protested.

"You're getting quiet on me. What am I s'pose to think?"

"If you weren't giving me concussions, I might be a little livelier."

"Look, I _said _I was sorry. Do you wanna leave or something?"

Mike shook his head. "Nah. We told Leo and Donny we were gonna hit the whole house. What would they think if I wanted to abandon ship early?"

Raphael snickered. "That you're as big of a scaredy-cat as Don?"

Mike glared at him. "He's not a scaredy-cat! Some people don't enjoy this stuff – that doesn't mean you gotta force it on them."

Raphael sighed. "I was joking, Mikey, I didn't mean it that way. C'mon…we're already here and we're supposed to be having fun. Bros?" He extended an arm toward him.

Michelangelo allowed his brother to get a hand around his shoulder. "In the spirit of the holiday, I accept." He grinned when the strains of spooky music picked up from nearby. "You hear that, Raph? I think we're about to enter another fun-zone."

As they approached the doorway at the end of the hall, fake smoke billowed across the floor and an eerie red light pierced through it. From somewhere in the distance, a cackle joined the canned music.

_"Enter the Dungeon of Tortured Souls, if you dare."_

Mike chuckled. "I dunno, Raph. Do we dare?" he stage-whispered.

Raphael gave him a smirk. "Let them give it their best shot."

The smoke was thicker inside the room, and a strobe light added to the confusion the attraction was attempting to create. However, the two figures that were hiding to the right of the turtles were so loud that they could have guided the ships through the fog.

Raphael nudged Mike's side, encouraging him to wait. Then the red-masked turtle lunged toward the crouching shadows with a menacing cry. The screams he received in return were so loud that they echoed through the room as the "scarers" fled for their lives.

Raphael guffawed as Mike bumped his fist approvingly. "Best. Night. Ever. I wanna do this every year, Mikey!"

* * *

Michelangelo and Raphael took their time to enjoy the rest of the haunted house, and the orange-masked turtle was a little sad when it was over. He'd had a great time with his brother, in spite of everything.

"Where are the guys?" Mike wondered of their missing brothers.

"Leo said they'd go back to the Battle Shell if they finished way ahead of us. They're probably waiting around the block."

Mike grinned and waved at other pedestrians as they walked back to where the van had been parked, well away from streetlights. He got some funny looks, but it didn't bother him. Just the fact that no one panicked and ran away at the sight of the turtles acting normally was too cool for words.

He caught Raphael giving him a side-long glance.

"This is gonna be your favorite holiday now, huh, Mikey?"

He shrugged. "You gotta admit that this is awesome."

"Better than sitting around watching some dumb parade," Raph muttered under his breath.

"Aw, no fears, Raphy. The Macy's parade will be on again before you know it."

"Not if _I_ have anything to say about it."

When they rounded the corner, Mike saw the reflection of the moonlight off of the Battle Shell's back window, and his gait automatically picked up. Raphael trotted faster along with him, stretching out a hand to knock on the back door. There was no response to the older turtle's hail; the empty darkness inside the van remained intact.

Mike's brow furrowed. "Where do you think they are? They couldn't be taking this much longer than we did."

Raphael shook his head. "Dunno, Mike. Leo _said_ they'd come back here."

Michelangelo trailed around the passenger side of the van, and stopped in his tracks when he spotted fresh stains on the vehicle. "Aw, Raph. We've been _tagged_."

"No freakin' way!" Raphael exclaimed darkly. "Lemme in there, Pipsqueak."

The red-masked turtle brushed a finger over the lettering and suddenly went stiff. "It's still wet, Mike," he said in a low voice. "And I _don't_ think it's paint."

"What are you saying?"

Raphael slowly turned to the front passenger door. "It's unlocked."

"No. Donny would never leave it unlocked!"

His older brother ducked inside the van rather than responding, returning a moment later with a flashlight. He shone the beam on "graffiti", and the light shook slightly as Mike tried to read the message too.

_One freak eliminated. Who's next?_

Mike's heart-rate jumped. "Raph, what does it mean?" His voice sounded small inside his head.

"I don't know. I don't know what it means, Mikey, but…" Raphael trailed off, dropping down closer to the pavement. As the sound of his older brother's breathing got louder, Mike got more nervous.

"Raph?"

The red-masked turtle repeated the same curse several time.

"What is it?" Mike was fully alarmed.

When Raphael drew his hand out from underneath the van, he was clenching a piece of broken steel. Mike's heart dropped.

"Is it…"

"Yeah," his brother said flatly. "It's part of a katana. There's more blood down here too, Mike."

"You don't really think…" Mike faltered. "No one could take down Leo and Donny like that."

Raphael nodded, but didn't add any thoughts of his own. "There's something else down here. I can't reach it. If I hold the light, will you see if you can get your arm under there?"

Mike dropped to the sidewalk, but he didn't _have_ to touch the object to know what it was under the flashlight's beam. The dark blue casing immediately gave it away. "It's Leo's phone," he said tightly. "Raph, what are we gonna _do_?"

"We're not going to stand around here," he snapped. "We should still be able to track Don's phone, right?"

Mike nodded hopefully.

"Okay. We're going to find them, Mike. Someone's gonna be sorry tonight, and it ain't going to be me."


	2. Tracking

Michelangelo was startled to discover that Donatello's phone signal would lead them exactly back where they started. When he informed Raphael of the closest address that the location software on his phone recognized, his brother looked just as confused.

"Why would he be back at the dang haunted house he didn't wanna see to start with? It don't make no sense," Raphael proclaimed.

Mike shook his head. "Maybe he dropped his phone when he and Leo had their 'mild' tour."

"Mikey, Don treats his technology like his babies. Do you think the Genius is just gonna drop his phone?"

"No," he agreed softly.

"Me neither. But when we figure out what's going on, someone _is_ gonna get dropped," Raphael fumed.

"Raph, do you think…do you think that blood on the van could be theirs?"

"Don't ask me that, Mike. Don't even consider the possibility yet. Someone's probably messing with us here. You don't see a body dump, do you? There's a good chance this guy is just taunting us. Nobody's dead."

Mike wished he could share his brother's confidence. "We heading back to the haunted house then?"

"Yup. Get out of the car."

"We're not taking the Battle Shell?"

"Heck no, Mikey. The bad guy, whoever he is, already knows about it. Do you wanna drive around with a big sign reading 'come after me next'? No. We're going in on foot so we can get the drop on whoever is behind this crap."

Mike climbed out of the van, finally feeling a little encouraged by his brother's determination. A chill wind greeted him as he set foot on the sidewalk, and he swore the temperature had dropped about ten degrees in fifteen minutes.

The pounding in his head became more pronounced as he trailed just behind his brother. Mike rubbed his temples firmly, but he didn't say anything about the pain. "Don't you think we should call Sensei?" he finally asked.

Raphael sighed heavily. "I don't wanna, but yeah…I guess we have to."

The red-masked turtle paused in his stride to lean against a brick building and drew out his phone. Mike watched him bleakly, wondering how Raphael would choose to describe the scene they'd found to their father. After a few seconds, the older turtle lowered the phone.

"He's not answering, Mike."

The orange-masked turtle fidgeted on his feet. "Should we keep trying?"

Raphael's fist plowed into the building half-heartedly. "I don't _know_, Bro; I don't know if we can afford to wait! Maybe that note was an empty threat, but then, maybe it was telling the truth. They could be in huge trouble."

_Maybe they're already dead, _the thought inserted itself in Mike's mind like poison, making him feel worse than he already did. _No, _he responded swiftly. _We don't know that anyone is dead. We're not _believing_ that anyone is dead. _

Mike's blue eyes narrowed as he shoved the disturbing thought aside. "I don't want to wait either. Let's go find our brothers."

* * *

The two turtles lingered in the shadows outside of the attraction for a full ten minutes as Mike played with the functions of the location software, trying to change the settings to operate as a homing beacon that would lead them directly to the _phone_, rather than simply an address.

Raphael growled in frustration. "You _said_ Donny showed you how to do this."

"He did," Mike returned indignantly. "I'm getting there, okay? We'll find them."

"Mike, there are too many people in there for us to try tearing the whole house apart. We need that phone. _Where _is the phone?"

"You're not helping, Raph!"

"Neither are you!"

Mike clenched his jaw angrily, and pulsing in his skull intensified. "I'm doing the best I can!"

Raphael crossed and uncrossed his arms. "Then do _better_."

He was tempted to tackle his older brother, but decided to ignore Raphael and use his last ditch resort of pushing all the buttons at once. A medium tone sounded and tiny dot began slowly flashing on the screen of his phone.

"What'd you do?" his brother demanded.

"It's Donny's phone. As we get closer to it, the flashing gets faster and brighter," he recited from memory.

"Well, why didn't you do that to START with?"

Mike flicked the tails of his mask with annoyance. "Why don't you shut up and we can try following the flashy thingy?"

The orange-masked turtle took a couple of steps around the right side of the building before his brother could say anything in return, and the flash immediately dimmed.

"What's it doing?" Raphael asked.

"It's not that way," Mike replied. "Let's try the other side."

The two turtles slipped around the left side of the haunted house, with Mike never taking his eyes off his screen.

"You see anything?" Raph pressed.

"Yeah. His signal is definitely getting brighter."

They fell back into ninja mode as naturally as breathing, easily avoiding the notice of other happy celebrators trying to get their "scare" on. The turtles crept alongside the house until they ran into a six-foot tall privacy fence

Raphael scaled the fence first and carefully scoped out the surrounding area from the higher perch. "I don't see no one, Mike." He dropped down to the other side without making a sound.

Michelangelo boosted over the fence into the new space, which was little more than worn patches of grass standing like feeble islands in a sea of dirt.

"You sure this is the right way, Bro?"

Mike turned to look at Raphael. "I'm sure. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but Don made this easy to follow. His phone has to be close by."

Raphael looked to the left and right, then focused on the small structure standing on the edge of the property. "You wanna check that thing out?"

Mike glanced down at his phone and took a couple of steps toward the building. "It's stronger in this direction. We're going the right way."

"Good," the red-masked turtle said gruffly. "If you can get us to Leo and Don, I might just call you 'Genius Junior' once in a while."

"Really, Raph?"

"No. But I won't hit you in the head as much."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Later, Pipsqueak. We've got brothers to find."

Mike trotted ahead of his older brother, adrenaline surging as he neared the obscure building. There was nothing special about the structure; no identifying numbers or a sign that would indicate a real purpose.

He began looking for a point through which to access the space, and found a door in seconds. Mike tried the handle, and was surprised when the fixture turned with ease. _Unlocked. Almost like we were expected. _Mike jerked backwards at the thought._ Haven't I seen this movie before?_

Raphael was beside him in a flash. "What's wrong, Mike?"

"It's unlocked, Raph. This feels really weird."

"Of _course _it's weird, Chucklehead, but we're still going in."

Raphael drew his sai, and Mike put away his phone so he could carry both nunchucks. The orange-masked turtle held his breath as he followed his brother inside, afraid that his air-intake would be too noisy within the silence that was surrounding the structure.

The interior was dark and felt musty, as though no one had taken any care for the space in years. _Why would Donny come in here? Could he have been hiding from someone? Is he still around here? _Mike might have called out his purple-masked brother's name if Raphael hadn't grabbed his shoulder.

The older turtle motioned to a familiar-shaped object which was barely illuminated by the faint light passing through the open door. Mike yanked his arm away from Raphael and dashed forward to pick up Donatello's bo. The weapon was in one piece, but it was sticky with a disturbing residue. "Blood," he whispered.

"Probably just means Donny got a piece of the guy," Raph insisted. "He'll be okay, Mikey. You'll see. He and Leo gotta be close by. His bo is here, and his phone—"

As though Raphael had set off a hidden cue, Don's favored ring-tone suddenly filled the air. Mike jerked to look around, and spied the device not five feet from where they were standing. He dropped the bo like it was a live wire and ran to grab the ringing phone.

Mike's hand trembled as he answered the device. "Hello?" He swallowed deeply when the caller didn't respond. "Hello? Donny? Leo?"

The chuckle that sounded in his ear made his heart skip a couple of beats.

"_You didn't think it would be _that _easy, did you?"_


	3. Contact

Mike clutched the phone for all he was worth, attempting to force strength into his voice. "Who are you? Where are my brothers?"

"_You'll find out_." The voice had an annoying sing-song quality. "_Don't worry. I have every intention of you finding what's left of them_."

Mike felt like throwing up or crying, but he didn't let go of the phone. "If you've _hurt_ my brothers in any way—"

Raphael cut him off rudely as he pried the cell phone out of his hand. "You got something to do with my brothers being gone?" he demanded. The red-masked turtle's face took on an animalistic rage as he suddenly snarled. "You won't think this is funny when we catch UP with you, you arrogant piece of—"

Raphael interrupted himself with an angry roar and might have pitched the phone if Mike hadn't reached to stop him.

"Bro, wait! We can't track Leo or Donny without their phones! We need this guy to keep talking so that we know how to find them!"

Raphael cursed loudly. "The bastard already hung up, Mikey, and we ain't got NOTHING!"

The chills that Michelangelo had been experiencing up to that point were giving way to heat, a burning sensation that made it feel like there was fire shut up inside of his bones. "It's not over, Raph, it can't be! He…he doesn't have _us _yet. You said yourself that this guy could be messing with us."

"How'd he know when to call us? How'd he get Donny's _number?_"

"Maybe he checked Leo's phone, or maybe…" Mike trailed off as he sent a sweeping gaze around the space.

The sight of a small glowing red light in the corner near the ceiling confirmed a possibility, and he headed toward it. Mike stretched on his tip-toes for a better look, and there was no longer any doubt. "It's a camera. He can see us, Raph!"

The red-masked turtle launched off the ground and plunged a sai through the lens. "Not no more he can't," Raphael seethed. "C'mon."

"C'mon what? Where are we going, Raph?"

"To do the only thing we _can _do, Mike. We're gonna go find Master Splinter."

* * *

The trip through the sewers to get home was a silent one. Raphael seemed too angry to speak, and Michelangelo was fighting discouragement with every step. The usual cold dampness of the sewers didn't even begin to penetrate the heat that was consuming his whole body. It was _almost _distracting him from the fact that two of his family members were missing, and perhaps already dead.

The walk felt like it lasted for ten miles, but they eventually made it to the "dead-end" that was actually the entrance to the lair. Raphael stalked through the door ahead of Mike, and the younger turtle did nothing to prevent him from going first. He didn't _want_ to be the one tell Splinter about Leonardo and Donatello.

"Sensei?" Raphael's voice carried across the ground floor of their sewer home. "Sensei, where are you?"

When the expected response never came, Raphael strode in the direction of their Master's quarters. Mike walked slowly around the living area, noticing the TV playing an infomercial that was spouting the miraculous effects of cactus juice for inflammation, and then focused on the tea cup sitting undisturbed on the coffee table. He picked up the cup experimentally and found it over half-way full and cold to the touch.

Raphael jogged back into the living area with a bewildered expression. "Have you looked anywhere?"

"Raph, I don't think Sensei's here."

"Did you _look_, Mike?"

"Why would he leave his tea to get cold?"

His brother rolled amber eyes and headed for the stairs to the second floor. "I'll look myself."

The orange-masked turtle swallowed, fingering Donatello's phone anxiously. _How did this night go from being so awesome to being so terrible in just a few minutes?_

When Raphael came flying back downstairs a moment later, he already has his phone in his hand. "C'mon, pick up," he muttered. "Pick up!" He shook his head at Michelangelo. "Sensei's not answering. Where on Earth would he _go_?"

"I don't know," Mike said faintly, exhaling as a hopeful idea occurred to him. "Raph, is this for real? 'Cause I know I play an awful lot of pranks on you guys, but this really isn't funny. I'm scared."

Raphael gaped at him incredulously. "Are you _serious_? You honestly think we'd all try to scare you this badly? How the shell could you come up with that? This ain't no game, Mikey! Our bros are missing, and now we don't know where Splinter is either!"

Mike hung his head briefly. "I'm sorry, Raph. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I guess I just _want_ it to be a joke."

"Well it's not, so we're gonna have to get moving again."

"And go where, Raph?"

"Can you try tracking Sensei's phone?"

Michelangelo nodded. _Why didn't I think of that?_

He brought up Donny's location software and typed in Splinter's phone number. He was relieved by the result that instantly posted. "He's at April's."

Raphael's eye ridges rose. "Why would he go out there? This isn't adding up. And why ain't he answering his dang phone?"

Mike shook his head. "I'll try April." He pressed the woman's speed-dial and waited nervously for her to pick up the phone. It rang six times, and then flipped to voicemail.

"What, Mikey? She not picking up either?"

All the youngest turtle could do was shake his head.

Raphael growled something unrepeatable. "We're outta here, Mike. Let's get topside to her place and find out what the shell is going on."

* * *

By the time they made it to April's building, the heat Mike was feeling had receded once more to chills. The orange-masked turtle was so cold that he could barely keep his teeth from chattering together.

"Mike."

He turned his head rapidly toward his older brother.

"What's wrong with you?" Raphael asked.

Mike hadn't realized that he was watching him that closely. "I just want to find everyone, that's all," he lied.

"Look, we got each other, right? Don't go to pieces on me, Mikey. I'm having a hard enough time keeping a lid on things as it is. If you lose it…just don't, okay?"

Michelangelo blinked rapidly, surprised by how vulnerable his brother sounded. "I'm doing my best," he murmured.

Raphael held his gaze for a long moment, and then glanced over the side of the roof they were perched on. "Let's go."

The turtles scaled a couple of floors down the structure, descending to the fire escape that was connected to their red-haired friend's apartment. Mike reached for the window and stopped short. The sight of broken glass made tears automatically spring to his eyes. "Raph…"

His brother's hands came up to his mouth, muffling his curse. With a deep breath, Raphael threw his shoulders back. "Mike, we gotta go in there."

The red-masked turtle lifted the window frame, sending remnants of glass shattering down to the fire escape. He ducked inside the apartment, and Mike followed on his tail.

Michelangelo's heart was pounding in time with the throbbing of his skull as he looked around the dark space. His hand reached for a lamp, and Raphael instantly stopped him.

"Wait," his brother ordered, reaching for the flashlight on his belt instead. "We don't know who could be watching. Let's not give ourselves away."

Mike shook off a tremor, trying to talk himself into taking the steps necessary to search for signs of life. He stayed close behind Raphael as his brother began shining the flashlight around. It made more sense to go the opposite direction to cover more ground, but he couldn't get the horror movie mantra out of his head.

_Don't separate, don't separate, don't separate…_

He was following Raphael so closely that when his brother suddenly halted, Mike ran into him. The red-masked turtle didn't chide him for the mistake, but appeared to be completely frozen in time. When Mike peered around his brother, he immediately understood why.

The living room wall that used to house old framed pictures had been emptied, but for the scrawled lettering that looked like the same style used on the van.

_Two freaks are eliminated – the third is waiting._

Raphael breathed heavily for several seconds before approaching the wall. "This feels drier than the other stuff."

Mike found his voice with a gasp. "So we're getting slower? Raph, where is Sensei's phone? We have to find it!"

"What does it matter where his phone is, Mike? He ain't here!"

"That guy wanted us to find Donny's phone!" Mike exclaimed. "Isn't it obvious? That was how he contacted us. He could have destroyed it like Leo's, but he wanted to send us a message. Maybe he's going to do the same thing with Sensei's!"

"But how could he get to SENSEI?" Raphael thundered.

"If we wanna know, we'd better find the phone." Mike broke away from Raphael's side to search the rest of the apartment. He was terrified of what might be waiting for him, but more afraid of not finding his family at all.

It only took walking as far as the kitchen to find his Sensei's phone on the counter. "It's here!" he announced flatly.

Mike glared at the screen as if his enemy was on the other side of it. He found the record of missed calls from Raphael, in addition to a single text message.

_Warehouse District – 566 South 25__th__ Street. What are you waiting for?_


	4. Warehouse

The icy blast of the forceful wind felt like it was driving Michelangelo back time and time again, but his brother seemed to take no notice of it. As the orange-masked turtle hesitated from taking the next leap to another roof-top, the distance between the two buildings appeared to double in size. _I can't stay here – I've gotta keep up with Raph! We have to get to them._

His legs didn't obey the command to work, and when he sent another look at the roof-top waiting across from him, the acute nausea in his stomach became overwhelming. Mike bent down over the roof with his head between his legs, gagging for reasons that he couldn't understand.

He jerked with surprise when something brushed his shell, immediately pulling away from the intrusion.

"What's _wrong_ with you, Mikey?"

Mike tried once more to escape Raphael's grasp, which had tightened much more than he deemed necessary. "Let me _go_, Raph!"

"No. I ain't letting you go, not if you're freaking out on me. I can't afford to let you do that!"

Michelangelo gasped as he tried to simultaneously regain control of his stomach and prevent himself from insulting his older brother.

"Mike, talk!" the red-masked turtle ordered fiercely.

"It's gonna be a trap," he said weakly.

"We both _know_ that, Bro, but what are we supposed to do? We're gonna have to play this guy's game a little bit. It's the only way that we can get our family back. I don't blame ya for being scared, but we're doing this _together_."

Even while Mike stared down at his feet and tried to collect himself, Raphael's grip never let up on his shoulders.

_Mike, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You have to hang in there, okay? It'll be all right._

Michelangelo's blue eyes widened as the familiar voice resounded in his mind. _How did Donny get inside my head?_ He felt like he'd heard the purple-masked turtle as clear as day, but Raphael didn't look like he had.

Mike took a couple of deep breaths. "Okay. I'm fine, Raph. Just lead the way."

His older brother gave him an appraising glance and then nodded. Mike watched the red-masked turtle take off for the next building, opting to keep his gaze fixed on Raphael instead of the distance between roof-tops that kept strangely shifting.

Mike could tell that his brother was moving more slowly now, trying not to get far ahead of him. He was both grateful and disheartened. _I shouldn't be holding things up. The guys need us. Splinter and April _need _us. _The thought of what some sick-minded person could be doing with their dear human friend was enough to spur him on faster, whether he was prepared for it or not.

Michelangelo couldn't hide the tremors he was experiencing by the time they reached the warehouse, and Raphael's concern had gone from veiled to transparent.

"Listen, Chucklehead, if you ain't ready for this—"

"I'm here," he interrupted shortly. "I'm here and ready for whatever."

"You don't _look_ ready."

"What difference does it make? We can't separate. We have to stay together and find everyone."

Raphael shrugged helplessly. "I'm not about to leave you out here by yourself, but you should probably hang back from any fighting."

Mike snorted. "That's a good one, Raphy. So when we find the guy, or guys, who have been messing with our family and taunting us all night I'm supposed to just walk away? Fat chance."

"I'm only telling you to _watch_ it, Bonehead. I don't want the bad guys getting a hold of any more ammunition."

Mike nodded, but made no promises concerning whether or not he'd fight. He stood still while Raphael canvassed the roof-top, searching for cameras or motion sensors. He crouched lower to the roof as the wind assailed him once more, threatening to topple him. The roar was so loud in his ears that it took him a moment to realize that his brother was standing in front of him again.

"Mikey, I found a vent. Mike?"

The youngest turtle blinked and reached to grab Raphael's arm. "Where is it? Can we use it to get in?"

The red-masked turtle nodded. "Yeah, it looks like it. The thing was padlocked to begin with, but I took care of it." Raphael spun one his sai to illustrate the point.

Mike trailed behind as he led the way back to the vent, and then Raphael reached down to remove the cover.

"The drop's probably only about fifteen feet. I'll go first, and you can follow right after me. Sound good?" Raphael suggested.

Mike nodded numbly, looking forward to the relative "shelter" the building would offer against the wind. His brother exhaled softly and lowered himself through the opening, then let go of the sides to jump to the floor.

Instead of the noiseless descent Mike was expecting, he heard Raphael cry out instead. He rapidly peered over the edge of the vent opening, pulse already racing. "Raph?"

The stark whiteness of the floor revealed a gaping hole that he _swore_ hadn't been there a minute before, and no sign of his older brother. "_No_," he started out quietly, but the intensity of his voice quickly increased. "No, no, no!"

Without hesitation he balanced on the sides of the opening and carefully swung out of the way of the hole. The chill even penetrated the hallway, making the floor beneath his feet feel like ice.

"Raph?" he called, heedless of any danger. "_Raph!_"

Mike slammed a hand against his forehead in desperate frustration, having nearly forgotten about the pain still ricocheting through his skull. He glanced up at the empty vent above him, eyeing the open door of escape. He only considered the roof for half a beat before lowering his gaze.

_No. It doesn't matter who's down here. I can't leave my bros, Master Splinter, or April. I can't do it._

Mike leaned carefully over the great hole in the floor, and was further distressed when he couldn't see the bottom. He didn't even have flashlight with which to penetrate the dark. _Using this would probably be the fastest way to find Raph, but I could also end up alone and injured. That wouldn't help anyone else._

With new resolve he straightened and took a couple of steps down the hall, tracing the wall with his fingers. The flickering of a few emergency lights was all that the turtle had to guide him. _Guide me to do what? What am I expecting to find here? It's a trap. Raph and I knew that. Now he's gone, and it's just me. Aw, Raph, I hope you're giving somebody hell, wherever you are._

Mike's mind raced as he tried to rub the goosebumps from his arms. _What would Leo do? What would _any _of the guys do at a time like this? All I can think is to start heading downstairs, and hopefully I'll catch up with Raphy-boy._

He licked dry lips, forcing down nausea in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't understand why the sensation was assaulting him. Mike had trained for years under his Sensei and prepared for a crisis like this. It was _not_ the time to panic. _I'm _going _to find someone, _he told himself_. _

Mike continued down the hall, trying door knobs wherever he saw a handle. None of them readily turned, but he wasn't tempted to start kicking down doors. _Not yet. Not without a good reason to use that much energy._

He paused by a door with a glowing red EXIT sign, and knew that it was the obvious choice. _If I was the bad guy, I'd expect me to go this way. _Mike turned the knob and opened the door to reveal a dark stairway. The turtle looked between the stairwell and the hallway. _Raph _said _we'd have to play along some._

Mike drew his nunchucks, clutching them tightly in both fists as he went inside the stairwell. When the door clicked shut he was immediately thrown into darkness, and stood frozen in one spot.

"I'm a ninja. I'm not afraid of the dark," he said to comfort himself.

Mike felt along the wall to find a railing and the staircase. He began silently descending the steps, all of his other senses intensifying to make up for the loss of his sight. He counted the stairs on the first flight to make it easier not to miss any on the following ones. The process was taking longer than he wanted it to, but he had no option except to keep going.

As he traveled lower into the depths of the building, the heat began creeping up on him again. Mike pressed a hand to his aching head and brushed away large drops of perspiration. He grimaced and plunged forward, nearly stumbling this time in his haste.

His foot met something solid on the next landing as the orange-masked turtle almost fell on his face. While Mike corrected his stance an overhead light suddenly clicked on, revealing the obstacle in a terrifying instant. His blue-masked brother's broken form was sprawled across the floor.

Michelangelo felt both panic and relief leap up in his heart. He shook as he searched his oldest brother, swallowing at the sight of the heavily bleeding gashes on Leo's arms and wrists. He found a faint pulse on his brother's neck, but he couldn't help feeling like he was watching the rest of Leonardo's life flowing out of him.

"Leo? Leo, you gotta wake up, you gotta—"

The sound of the adjacent door creaking partially open made Mike jump and take notice of the message looming over his shoulder.

_Save the dying or save the living? I'm still waiting._


	5. Reveal

Michelangelo was at a loss for what to do. There was a part of him that wanted to go tearing through the exit door like a raged lunatic, and another part of him that desired to do nothing more than dissolve into tears at his blue-masked brother's side.

There was one thing however that he was absolutely certain of: he didn't have the power to save his oldest brother by himself. If Leo was going to have any shot of living, Mike needed to find Donatello or their Sensei, and _fast_.

With a reserve of strength he wasn't aware he still possessed, Mike managed to lift his injured brother mostly off the floor, so that his only his legs dragged across the ground as he pulled him through the doorway. He simply wasn't going to abandon Leonardo to that stairwell.

The heat of the room hit Michelangelo as though he'd entered a sauna. The air felt so heavy that it took effort to keep breathing in and out in a regular rhythm. _I really, _really _wish I hadn't lost Raph. _Bereft of his burly red-masked brother, Mike still needed to go forward.

The only light in the room was coming from the stairwell door he'd left open. Mike wasn't making rapid ground with Leo in tow, but he was determined to keep going nonetheless. When his older brother groaned painfully, trepidation and fear began giving way to fury.

"Hold on, Leo. Hold on. I'm gonna find you some help if it kills me! You can't give up, okay?" Mike didn't know how his voice was able to remain so steady when he was that terrified. It was probably only because his brother was more helpless than he was.

He stopped after a few more steps, anger still pumping furiously through his veins. It was time to throw off any pretense of playing along with whatever this bad guy wanted, now when he was feeling his boldest.

"Where are you?" Mike shouted, his voice resounding across the cavernous space. "No more games and no more little messages! Stop hiding behind a cell phone and come out to face me like a man!"

The laugh that answered him was familiar, if louder than it had been over the phone. "You still have a short way to go, freak! Are you strong enough to walk a few more steps?"

Mike ground his teeth fiercely. "I'm plenty strong enough to strangle the life out of you if you don't tell me where my family is!"

"Those are bold words coming from the last Phantom standing."

"You're a liar!" Mike cried. "You're not fooling me."

"You look rather burdened down, freak. I'd be happy to have someone relieve you of the excess weight you're hauling along with you."

"You come near me or Leo and I'll kill you – I swear I will!"

"I'm sure you'd try – but then how would you be able to help anyone else?" The stranger's voice carried the air of a smirk. "Your other brothers, your pet _rat_, and the one beautiful piece that doesn't even fit the puzzle."

Mike's blood boiled as he turned around in a circle, searching for the speaker. "Where ARE you?"

The man acted like he hadn't heard him. "I remember the first time I laid eyes on April. A face like that is hard to forget, especially when she's a regular on the newsbeat. She was the key that led us right to _you_."

Mike was baffled. "To me?"

"To the so-called 'Phantoms' of New York City," he corrected. "If you can wait just a minute, we'll make you more comfortable before we continue our business."

"I've got no business with…" Mike trailed off as a couple of spotlights flickered to his left, and the outline of shadows became clear. A low growl pulsed in his throat as the figures started toward him, until he was distracted by a realization. The individuals didn't look like grown men but mere teenagers, nothing more than the usual riffraff that he and his brothers faced on a regular basis. The strangest part about them was that they were wearing the colors of _opposing_ gangs. _Did the United Nations of gangbangers decide to take up shop inside a random warehouse?_

Curiosity flew south as the young men surrounded him, and he had no choice but to let go of Leonardo so that he could defend both their lives. Even the sight of a couple of guns wasn't enough to discourage the turtle to give up.

A nunchuck flew into the face of the first thug who tried to get a hand on Leo, and Mike brought his other weapon around to knock the firearm out of the closest boy's grasp. He kicked another gun-toter in the ribcage, sending him sprawling backwards several feet. It was going to be a fight to the death. He wouldn't back down – he'd _make_ them kill him.

That was what Michelangelo determined in his mind, but invisible hands were suddenly grasping his shell, pulling him back. He crashed to the floor, jerking his head around to try and see _who_ was restraining him, but still saw nothing. As he was pinned to the floor the teens converged on him again, and he couldn't so much as raise his arms against them.

He cried out when he saw Leonardo being dragged back into the shadows. "No! Leave him alone! Take me, you idiots! Take _me_!"

The irritating laugh of the speaker infuriated him almost as much as the goons who'd latched onto his sides. "C'mon, freak. You'll get your turn like everyone else, but I wanna talk to you first."

The orange-masked turtle was forcibly propelled across the room, even as he kept trying to look over his shoulder for Leonardo. Not until a spotlight popped on to illuminate another hooded figure chained to a chair did he stop fighting their efforts to move him. His heart beat out of his chest as he fixed on the sight of what was surely Donatello.

Mike tried to break free from his captors, but their grip was like an iron vice on his limbs. Eyeing the teenagers, it was hard to believe the young men were really that strong. "Donny!" he yelled desperately, as the thugs kept him from reaching his brother.

Another figure was standing just out of range of the spotlight. "I _told_ you we were waiting."

Mike glared at the man with such intensity it felt like fire might actually spout from his eyes. "You let my brother GO!"

The man shook his head. "I can give you a couple of options, freak, but in the end, the choice is yours. Would you rather save the brother in front of you, the one who leaps ahead of you, or your beloved furred mascot?"

"I'm supposed to choose who to save?" he sputtered.

The laugh was colder yet. "No, but you should have seen your face. The others are already dead."

"You're lying, just like you lied about Leo!"

"He'll be dead soon too. You could see that with your own eyes, right?" The man sighed contentedly. "Blue was the one that I wanted to play with me all along, but then, the game was all about timing, and he came too early."

"What GAME? Who the shell are you?"

The figure stepped into the light, brandishing Leonardo's second katana and a devilish smile. The sight of him was both disturbing _and_ shocking, because Mike recognized the man.

"You look surprised, freak," Emilio said patronizingly. "Don't you know that the burden of proof is the responsibility of the police to provide? It's harder to get crimes to stick than you 'Phantoms' imagine."

It didn't seem possible that one of Leonardo's main attackers from the terrible assault of the previous year could be standing there threatening him.

Emilio's grin widened. "We're a colorful bunch, aren't we? During the time I had for reflection in jail, I came to realize something. Every gang has rivals and allies alike. The one thing that we all have in common is how much we hate YOU."

"Where's April?" Mike asked hoarsely. "Where is my family?"

"You don't get it yet, freak. It's _over_. The problem in dealing with your kind comes from people who never kill you when they have a perfectly good opportunity. Take Red for example. That was a threat I didn't need coming back to bite me. The same went for the furry munchkin."

"_You_ were so scared of my Sensei last time that you almost wet yourself!" Mike bellowed. He instantly shut his mouth as Emilio draped an arm over Donatello's shoulder and yanked off the hood that was covering his brother's face.

"I wanted you to have the pleasure of getting to watch at least one of your family members die. That's why we've been waiting for you. It sure took long enough."

"Get off my brother!" Mike commanded.

"Mike, it's okay," Donatello's voice was strangely soothing.

"This isn't _okay_, Donny!"

"Stop fighting. Relax. Are you listening to me?" the purple-masked turtle asked earnestly.

Michelangelo looked left and right for some explanation for his brother's behavior. He couldn't understand how Don could be so calm and at ease when their untimely demise was crashing down on their heads.

"Don, don't let them take you without a fight! _Do_ something!" he ordered.

"Shh. Listen to the sound of my voice. It's going to be okay."

"You're crazy!" Mike asserted, and turned another glare on Emilio. "What did you do to him? What did you DO?" The orange-masked turtle's breath hitched as the man brought the katana to rest against Don's jaw.

"He is resigned to his fate, and you should be too. You're not getting away. No second chances. No last minute daring rescue. My generation will overcome your cursed kind because we _destroy_ the obstacles in our path!"

Mike screamed at the top of his lungs as the gang leader slashed the katana, Leo's beloved katana across Donny's unprotected throat.


	6. Over

Michelangelo closed his eyes. He didn't mean to; it was some natural instinct to preserve what remained of his sanity that overtook his eye-lids before he had the chance to think about it. The picture of the callous killing of his brother couldn't be removed from his mind, replaying over and over as he cried tears unlike any he'd ever shed. The sob came from deep inside him, wrenching every organ in his body as it emerged.

There were hands grasping his chin, trying to raise his head. Mike snarled as he jerked away, not even caring how badly the motion hurt his head.

_"Mikey? Mike, hold on to my voice."_

Even now Donatello's voice was choosing to haunt him, and it was the last thing the orange-masked turtle wanted to be forced to face.

_"Mike, I'm here. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere._

Mike was actually feeling slightly exasperated with it all. "Stop trying to make me feel better! It's _not _going to be okay!"

_"I know it doesn't feel like it, but I need you to trust me."_

"Stop it," he moaned wearily. "Just stop it! You're only in my head!  
_"Will you at least try opening your eyes again?"_

Mike shook his head unwillingly.

_"Please? I know you understand what I'm asking you."_

He sighed deeply as he opened his eyes a crack, and then the rest of the way. The chair that Donatello had been bound to was now sitting empty, bloodied chains draped across the back of it. The overhead spotlight flickered on and off repetitively, and Emilio's guttural laugh assailed his ears as if it were coming from all directions.

Mike buried his head in his chest, clenching his eyes shut once more. "It's over. It's over and I couldn't stop him. When's he going to put me out of MY misery?"

_"No one's going to touch you, Mike."_

"Shut up! You're not real!"

_"Michelangelo, be still for a moment."_ The familiar voice was gentle, but firm.

_Now Sensei is in my head too?_

"Master? How did you get free?"

_"My son, you are safe. Do you understand this?"_

"_No_ one is safe!"

"_Open your eyes."_

Mike didn't want to, but he couldn't bring himself to disobey his father's voice. The warehouse was so hazey now that the spotlight barely penetrated the fog. He couldn't see the chair where Donatello had died, Emilio, or anyone else.

"Is this part of the game?" he shouted. "You take everyone that matters, and leave me here by myself? Come back and face me, you worthless coward, unless you're too _scared _to kill me too!"

Unbridled fury was making a strong comeback, sending life pouring through his veins. "You think you can mess with my family and get away with it? Come out, Emilio!"

_"Michelangelo—"_

"I said get out here!" Mike surged, trying to rise, but his invisible bonds held fast. "Let go! Let me GO!"

The orange-masked turtle cursed, employing every bad name he'd ever heard, including some words that even Raphael wasn't bold enough to use.

"_Michelangelo – kikimasu_!" (listen)

The power behind his Sensei's voice was so real that Mike's anger faltered and tears returned in full force. He gasped for air between sobs for the brothers he'd failed, for the friend he hadn't protected, and the father who's name had been sullied by a piece of trash gangbanger who was going to DIE if he could get his hands on him. He felt ashamed for crying and letting his enemy see him broken, but it couldn't be undone. Without his brothers, his family, he'd never be whole again.

Michelangelo felt fingers tracing his head again, coming dangerously near his eyes. By this point, he didn't care. Mike _didn't _care – he just wanted it to be over.

_"Would you try again? Open your eyes," _his Sensei softly requested.

"I don't care," he mumbled. _Geez, for being inside my head, he's sure not listening too well._

The pressure on the back of his eye-lids felt as delicate a butterfly's wing. Michelangelo numbly opened blue eyes a third time, and was startled to find someone mere inches from his face. Not just anyone – but the figure of his Sensei.

"Master?" He was instantly aware of how raw and parched his throat was. He barely had any voice left at all. "Where'd you come from?"

"You _do _see me, Michelangelo?"

"Yeah, but how—"

Splinter pressed a hand to his mouth to cut him off. "Rest. You have had a very difficult day."

_A "difficult day"? _The words didn't begin to sum up the evening he'd had. Mike held his Sensei's onyx eyes for several seconds, comforted by their strength, but still utterly confused. "Where did…Emilio didn't kill you?" he finally asked.

"The young man killed no one," Splinter reassured him. "He could do no such thing, because he isn't here."

The orange-masked turtle snapped away from the face of his father, taking in the rest of the room – a room that he knew all too well. _It's the Lab, and Sensei…and…_Mike looked down, surprised by the restraints that were binding his arms and legs down. "Why…" he started to ask, and stopped cold when he saw his purple-masked brother on his other side.

"I'm sorry," Don choked. "We had no choice. You got too violent."

Michelangelo was still trying to process the scene and determine if his dead brother was really talking to him. "You…Donny, Emilio had you."

"No," his brother insisted. "It wasn't real, _none_ of it was real."

"So what are you saying? That I somehow _dreamed _all of this?"

"Hallucinated," Donatello corrected. "You've been awake this whole time."

Tears brimmed back to the surface against his will, but his older brother's arms were around him in a flash. Mike buried his head against Donny's shoulder, merely breathing. There were no words, only emotions of confusion and desperate relief that couldn't be contained by a sentence.

"I'm so sorry," Don whispered.

Mike raised his head to look him in the eye. "Why do you keep apologizing?"

"Because I screwed up, and we've been struggling to get your fever under control all day!"

"Donatello, you are not the reason that your brother became ill," Splinter said reproachfully.

Donatello shook his head, and Mike noticed how red his brother's eyes appeared from crying. "I only had a limited amount of ingredients to make the hydralin. I was in such a hurry when I was combining everything that the mixture got too hot, and I ruined the entire batch."

Mike closed his eyes briefly and reopened them to make sure that everything was still as it should be. "That doesn't make this your fault."

Splinter's arm rested on the purple-masked turtle's shoulder momentarily. "No, it doesn't." He then turned back to Michelangelo. "My dear son, it sounds as if you have been to hell and back again. Though I am glad to hear you in your right mind, you _must _rest now."

Mike only sniffed in response, unwilling to let go of the reality that was so much better than the other one had been.

Sensing his restraint, Splinter grasped his wrist. "You are safe. Your family is safe. I am going to stay here until you fall asleep, and even then, I will not leave your side. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sensei," he agreed quietly, glancing down at the furred hand clutching his arm. "Don't let go?"

"I will not, Michelangelo. I promise."

* * *

The trip to the couch was only about twenty feet, but even that felt like a huge undertaking to Mike after spending a week in the Lab. Most of his symptoms had faded, which was the only reason he'd been granted leave to get out of bed. The orange-masked turtle felt strangely muted as he took a seat on the couch with Leonardo, and waited for his other two brothers to show up.

No one had asked him straight out to describe the hallucinations, and Mike hadn't volunteered any information. Now as he sat across the couch from his oldest brother however, a question that had been plaguing him in the back of his mind _seriously_ wanted to come up.

Leonardo's brown eyes gazed straight back at him but he maintained his silence, as if he perceived that Mike wanted to speak.

"I don't understand something," Mike began weakly. "Why did I end up taking on _your _villain, Leo? Emilio attacked you – not me."

The blue-masked turtle cleared his throat. "I don't think that a fever-induced hallucination can be explained that easily." Leonardo broke eye contact with him. "I was rocked hard by the attack from that gang, Mike, and…what happens to one of us _affects_ all of us. I wish that you wouldn't have had to face my ghost, but I'm not shocked by it either. Losing each other and not being able to do anything about it…we're all afraid of that, Mikey."

Mike rubbed his arms self-consciously. "I didn't know…that is, I couldn't be sure what I said out loud, or what you guys actually heard."

Leo shook his head. "Mike, you don't need to explain anything. Some pieces were easy to assemble based on your behavior. I'm trying to tell you that you're not the only one who deals with fear, and if you're tempted to be ashamed of it…don't be."

Mike nodded swiftly as he heard the kitchen door opening, and put on a smile for his other brothers when they entered the room with a couple bowls of popcorn.

Raphael smirked at him. "So the exile returns."

Mike rested his arms behind his head, sinking into a more comfortable position on the couch. "Yup. I know you've been enjoying your reign with the TV remote, Raphy, but it's coming to an end."

The red-masked turtle shrugged. "Good things never last," he proclaimed sarcastically, and scooped up the remote to set in front of him. "What _are_ you choosing for us to watch? Nothing with any characters who spontaneously burst out into song, okay?"

"Well how about—"

"And no animation."

"Then we could—"

"Talking animals are out of the question too."

"Shell, Raph, can I finish a _sentence_?"

Before Raphael could reply, Leonardo zipped behind him and dropped into the recliner. The chair held sacred by none other than the hot-headed turtle alone.

"While you guys discuss this, I'm going to make myself comfortable." Leo grinned, and winked at Mike. "Raph forfeited his right to this chair for at least a week to me in morning practice."

Raphael glared daggers at the oldest turtle. "Enjoy it while you _can_, Fearless." He huffed as he flopped down on the other side of the couch.

Donatello bore an amused smile as he gazed across all three brothers. "Are we going to sit here and watch each _other_?"

Mike shook his head. "Nah. You go pick a movie, Donny."

Raphael jolted further upright. "Genius, don't—"

"I got this, Raph," Donatello assured him.

As Don left to make a selection, Mike shot Raphael a glance out of the corner of his eye. His older brother was staring at the dark television screen, probably brooding over the loss of control of both the TV _and_ his chair. Without thinking, Michelangelo slapped the back of the red-masked turtle's head, laughing out loud when he caught him off guard.

Raphael spun to face him with narrowed eyes. "What _gives_, Mike?"

"Trust me, Raph – you deserved it."

* * *

**::insert evil laugh:: Wow, that was way more fun than it should have been. If you're curious about the attack to which Leo and Mike refer in this chapter (or who the heck Emilio is) you can read the entire account in "The World I Know", my other fic that falls outside my normal, complicated canon.**

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, friends. **


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